All eyes fall on the two officers, making them shift around uncomfortably.  The gathering of people before them, mostly retired Generals and Colonels, have no respect for Venome rule, or anyone’s excluding Lt. Col. Smith.  Twenty-to-two: even with guns those aren’t very good odds.

“Commander Schofield, Lieutenant Sheerer, without going through everyone here, these are the people you’ll be working closest to...” Debbi begins her introductions of the personnel, starting at Brandi’s immediate left.  “Sixgun Fuscia, whom you know,” skipping Razor she proceeds, “Tracy Dunn, Steven Caine, Ryan Watts, Joe Garcia, Mason Webb, Andrew Wyle and Eric Pearson.”

With the distribution of paperwork now complete, Debbi Smith repositions herself in front of the gathering, drawing attention to the information just released.  “Now, in front of you, is a bare bones description of the posts in which you are being assigned.  Razor and I looked them over meticulously to assure that each person was placed in their particular area of expertise.”

The group responsively thumbs through the stack of papers given to them, reading quietly.

“Believe me,” Debbi assures, “I know this all seems last minute, but you are all here voluntarily.  It’s my personal choice to do this and I need people whom I trust.  I’ve worked with all of you for many years and I trust you with my very life.  Anyone who wishes to back out, do so now.  Otherwise, once you’re in, there’s no turning back.”

No one moves.

“Good,” Debbi smiles, after looking around.  “Okay, people, this is definitely no small task we’re about to undertake.  According to Commander Schofield, we cannot settle for just removing Major General Riley, but the prevailing high command as well, which is why I have asked you all here.  You’re going to replace the High Council.”

Debbi turns and starts drawing diagrams on the chalkboard behind her.  When she finishes, she readdresses her followers, “If you look at the diagram labeled, OSD-21, Commander Schofield has provided us with copies of the interior structure of the Main Annex building.  Familiarize yourself with this schematic, most of the action will take place here.”

The middle-aged, retired General Tracy Dunn interrupts, “Excuse me, Debbi, what exactly is going to happen?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Eric Pearson agrees, “how are we supposed to dethrone Riley?

“We’re going to put him on trial.”

“Trial?” another of Lt. Col. Smith’s personnel repeats.

“Exactly.  In front of God and country, with the entire world watching, we’ll court martial the son of a bitch.  In that way, the rest of Venome will be forced to accept the change of power.”

Brandi loves this idea: Major General Jeremy Riley facing a general courts martial before, not only the entire regime, but the entire world, to answer for the number of mistakes he’s made the past few years.  If it were up to the Commander, she would personally ask him all the questions: Why he enlisted any bum off of the street; why he always sent Flight Division to clean up his messes.  The list is endless.

“I’ll let Commander Schofield take it from here,” Debbi gives up the floor.

This takes Brandi off guard, for she didn’t expect to say anything to anyone, moreover, she has no idea what Debbi wanted her to say.  Seeing the Commander is in some confusion, Debbi clarifies, “Commander, what is the significance of fourteen, January?”

“Oh...” Brandi realizes.  She stands, leaning slightly on the table.   “Riley and the whole High Council have this huge inter-satellite conference on the fourteenth, every four months, beginning in January; mostly going over new orders of business, changes in UCMJ laws, policies and High Council personnel.  It’s transmitted to every Venome base worldwide and, with the exception of Free Press television, every household.  I’m sure you’ve seen it, the Telecommunications Team blocks out all other transmissions.”

Looking around, it’s obvious no one bothered watching anything Venome, or Riley, transmitted.  In all honesty, neither did Brandi.  Political conferences have a tendency of putting her to sleep.

“Anyway...” Schofield proceeds, “security is extra tight, but if we’re going to embarrass Riley, this is the best time to do it.”

“If the Telecommunications Team sees something is amiss, won’t they cut transmissions?” questions the alert Tracy Dunn.

pages:
10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20